Red Cedar

No turning back, is there?

Posted on February 5, 2008 by Megan

Just came in from a day of bargaining for a new collective agreement. I really wish I could write more here about what it is that makes up my collective bargaining days but unfortunately we have this thing called discretion that we are to exercise when in session. Makes sense I suppose since we don’t really want to be bargaining in public until, well, it’s time to go public – and that’s not yet. Suffice to say it is a process. It is slow. But it’s not without its amusing and rewarding moments – and I certainly am not complaining about being here to do this work.

I’ve been thinking a lot about political leadership these past few weeks and what it means to take on any role of “leadership” in an organization as I work towards making a decision about running for a higher position in my regional union structure. On the one hand being in leadership gives opportunities for personal growth and moments of incredible connection with people – not to mention the chance to push for real change. On the other, putting your hand up and saying “pick me” is a surefire way to get yourself immediately on the wrong side of any number of people. Thinking back to grade school, it’s a lot like being the class keener – secretly admired by a handful, picked on by the majority waiting outside by the bike racks after class. And I was *never* the class keener. So what’s changed now?

Last night I went for coffee with my friend Rob and we talked about just this question. As radicals it is difficult to resign ourselves to the imperfections of our organizations, but simply walking away and leaving them to stagnate doesn’t seem like much of an option either. I really am as critical as they come when it comes to the labour movement in Canada, but at the same time unwilling to give up the fight. And that fight is both internal (to change our own structures and democratic processes) and external (with the bosses who collude to drive down the basic living standards and dignity of those we represent). Compounding all of that is my faltering belief in our ability to make substantive change, which I wrote about yesterday. How the hell did I get here anyway?

But you see, there are those moments of connection and of movement when you take on one of these roles. As a member of my bargaining team I get to go out and talk to people working in all kinds of jobs all over the country. I get to hear about their struggles and frustrations and I get to make them laugh when I do my spiel about why their employer treats them so bad. I have organized picket lines of people who *never* stand up for themselves in any other way, and I’ve represented people at hearings who clearly have needed some advocate on their side. When we are out there together, I get that on some basic things we all do have common cause – even if that falls far short of the world I want to ultimately create. As one of my friends on the team says, “Those are the rock star moments. They are the reasons you do this.” And it’s true that what does keep you going through all the backbiting and internal treachery is the promise that more of those battles will come (win or lose, it’s the struggle stupid!)

Ah hell, who am I trying to kid? There’s no turning back for me. At (almost) 35 with 20 years of activism behind me I’m not about to just turn away and stop being who I am. Even when who I am means I have to do things that scare the hell out of me. I don’t like putting up my hand and saying “pick me” and I don’t relish the prospect of failure in public, but at the same time I know what I’m good at. And this. This is something I’m good at.

Hm. So it goes.

Mumbling to myself.

Posted on February 4, 2008 by Megan

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I note here that the Doomsday seed vault built by the Norwegians in the Arctic has received its first shipment of seeds for storage. I am not sure whether that news should provide comfort or not. In me, it really just leaves a chill, a slight horror. Have we really come to this point where we need to horde bio-matter to stave off the coming starvation? It’s very existence gives credence to an unstable and hard-pressed future. And to that I can only complain that it seems unfair to be borne into a generation obsessed with the end and yet powerless to do much about it. Our legends are no longer about faraway land, but after the crash and what becomes of those who survive (eaten by zombies no doubt).

But then, I think of what I know about the plague years, or even the first world war and the influenza epidemic that followed it – and to those generations it must have seemed the end of the world too. Perhaps we have always dreamed this – as we do when first falling in love – something this miraculous must surely come to an end sometime. Just as we have built the most beautiful city, or collected the most remarkable treasures in one place – then comes a crusade or a smart bomb to level it. Thus returning us over and over to our humility. Except we don’t get it. We never do learn that lesson and so return always to our task of building and rebuilding the tower.

In whose honour? Some obviously motivated by being “chosen” by God, others by mortality and the seeking of each experience possible before dying, and then there are those living in the myth of family and community. I suppose the question lies here: When you imagine yourself failing, under whose eyes do you feel that shame? Your mother? God? Your children? What fuels your self-hatred the most?

I have been asked this question before but always have difficulty in answer it. Perhaps because I don’t want to admit any power over me – mortal or otherwise – and so instead imagine a nameless mass who somehow rely on my success. Tee people, the oppressed, the union, the community. A force large enough to be worthy of having that sway – a way to explain why I drive myself over and over to the same teary frustrations.

I have a hard time these days believing in substantive change – hasn’t it all been tried before? Are we really delivered to a better place than those generations who have preceded us? I see my own yearning for natural order reflected in all the generations of debates and wars and written tomes – knowing always that the truth really does presage this civilization which means it will always elude this particularly civilized mind. Everything sought after really just the desire to return to the garden – that place to which all roads are now closed. Where indeed is the motivation in that?

Perhaps then this Doomsday vault gives me these chills for a reason – a sign that we have actually given up our attempts to return – that we have failed to reverse the plagues – and in some dystopic future we rely on the failures of this generation to reissue the seed for the garden. Instead of being frightened by this vision, we celebrate it – our lack of will to change this new stuff of legend.

A little inspired even.

Posted on February 3, 2008 by Megan

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So here I am, in Ottawa for Winterlude but I haven’t motivated myself to take pictures of ice yet so I’m fooling around with my shots from the desert instead. I’m starting to think I can make some kindof art form by combining photos with melancholic regret. Or perhaps I’ll grow out of it eventually and start writing real poetry.

I am in the hotel tonight, still tired from my cold, and sat down at my computer a couple of hours ago to ward off the television set. I’ve been reading a lot the last couple of days and so didn’t feel like passing the evening that way – but I did have a letter to finish which I followed by fooling around with some of my photographs and words. I mention this only by way of explaining that I am suddenly feeling better than I have in weeks. A little inspired even, not because there’s much in what I just did, but because it’s the first creative output I’ve made since I got sick and part of my general “down” has been about how much I am *not* doing these days.

State of mind really, and I’m hoping that I can get enough rest so that by the time I turn thirty-five I’m back to feeling like I was a couple of weeks ago. Stay tuned – I’m up for a week of adventures in Ottawa.